Time (Poetry)
What time it is
That tell someone a strict thing
So she does not mind
Like the rules of hatred and love
Nobody knows them
Seeing the flower blooming
Suddenly be happy,
Big affectionate on this defeat
Filling your mind,
Journalment,
Even these straightforward forms of expression
Everyone forgot,
Nobody recognizes
What kind of helplessness is it
That we have our naturalness
It is absolutely free!
Life is so difficult without it
That the difference is not understood quickly
It is dread or ruin
Whatever it is, it is fine about conflicts
For those who grow
This is a leak.
Still, what kind of disgrace with sorrow and happiness!
That tell someone a strict thing
Even then she does not mind.
What time is this?
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